


The House of Terror

by notquitegucci (AllieKitaguchi)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blood, Bucky works in a haunted house, Fluff, Halloween, Haunted Houses, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Multi, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, also bucky is a terrible flirt, also never trust children in haunted houses, also this is beefy!Steve, also tony is only mentioned, bucky gets punched in the face (by steve), but that's it???, clint sweats profusely, he bleeds, he doesn't show up for a while, how did this happen, how did we get here, i guess, natasha is perfect, peter talks but not a lot, sam wants pietro to get the fuck out of the way tho, sam wants steve to get his shit together, steve is scared of everything, this might be the stupidest thing i've ever written, this was not supposed to be 3000 words long i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 03:30:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8147680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllieKitaguchi/pseuds/notquitegucci
Summary: The one where Clint sweats a lot, Pietro runs away from his problems, Sam trips over his own two feet, Peggy tries her hardest not to show fear, Wanda needs reassurance, Natasha is too cool for everyone's shit, Steve's doesn't even want to be here, and Bucky just wants to get paid. 
Or, the one where Bucky works in a haunted house and Steve is scared of everything. 
Alternatively titled: "You're an actor in a haunted house and I punched you in the face because you scared me so bad holy shit I'm so sorry"





	

     Let it be known, first and foremost, that this was not Steve’s fault. 

     No, this was Natasha’s fault. And Sam’s. And Peggy’s. And Clint’s—hell, it was everyone else’s fault, okay? They were the ones who cornered Steve in his shabby studio apartment with their big dumb grins and said, “ _Hey Steve, we’re thinking about hitting the haunted house down the road. You in?_ ”

      To which Steve had smartly responded, “ _Hell no_.”  


     Of course, these are Steve’s friends that we’re talking about here. “No” was not a word that they knew in their vocabulary. So Steve was forcibly dragged from his apartment out to Sam’s little shoebox of a car, shoved into the backseat, and taken to the outskirts of town where _The House of Terror_ stood.  


     It was an old, abandoned house that the city had bought and renovated specifically to be a haunted attraction in October. The floors creaked when people walked, the shingles on the roof were falling off, the paint was chipping, and worst of all, the house sat right in front of the haunted corn maze.  


     Steve might have been over six foot and well over two hundred pounds of pure muscle, but he didn’t do dark, decrepit, or haunted. He _sure as hell_ did not do all three. So he planted his feet as firmly as he could, glared Sam in the eyes, and crossed his arms over his chest and said, “Nope.”  


     “Steve,” Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s not that bad.”  


     “No.”  


     “Don’t be a chicken shit, Rogers.”  


     “Eat me, Romanov, I’m not doing it.” Steve kept glaring at them. Natasha rolled her eyes and leaned against the side of Sam’s car, giving Steve the single most unimpressed look he’d ever seen.  


     “But we were supposed to meet Wanda and Pietro here!” Clint protested, pouting at Steve. “Don’t make me disappoint them.”  


     Steve raised a blond eyebrow. “No one ever said _you_ couldn’t go inside, Clint.”  


     “Well, yeah, but it’s no fun without you. You’re the only one that screams.”  


     “Yeah, speaking of which,” Steve paused and gave them all a look through narrowed eyes. “Why are you all here, anyway? None of you get scared at this type of stuff.”  


     “I’ve got a friend working inside,” Natasha said, nodding her head back towards the house.  


     “You couldn’t wait to talk to them later, or…?”  


     “James has been in training for the past three weeks. I wanted to see if all his hard work paid off.”  


     “Tash. You know he’s not going to scare you.” Steve pointed out.  


     She shrugged her shoulder. “Well, no shit. But he might scare you.”  


     “Romanov, everyone in there will scare me.”  


     “Which is exactly why we should go get in line now!” Sam grabbed at Steve’s arm and tugged. As expected, Steve didn’t budge an inch.  


     “Don’t be a party killer, Rogers,” Peggy drawled, crossing her arms over her chest and raising one perfect eyebrow at him.  


     “Aw, c’mon Peg. Not you too!” Steve was a second away from stomping his foot on the ground petulantly.  


     “I happen to love Halloween, Rogers, and you’re killing my vibe,” She informed him, dark red lips curling up in a small smile.  


     Steve groaned internally, knowing the battle was already over. “Please don’t make me go?” He asked her, silently hoping. Peggy only grinned and Steve’s shoulders drooped, defeated.  


     “C’mon, Rogers, move those feet!” She clapped her hands twice and Steve groaned again, louder this time, as Sam, Clint, and Natasha cheered. This time when Sam tugged, Steve allowed himself to be towed to the line that was pouring out of the house and wrapping backwards towards the corn maze.  


     “Good news, everyone,” Clint announced when his phone lit up in his hands. “Wanda and Pietro are saving us a spot in line.”  
Steve only groaned louder. 

 

      Fifteen minutes later, Steve was buying himself a ticket from a vendor dressed as Dracula. The guy, who introduced himself as Scott, proudly proclaimed, “Folks are saying it’s the scariest house we’ve had in years!”  


     Steve responded with a bland, “Awesome.”  


     Natasha elbowed him in the ribcage as they walked up the steps to the house, handing their tickets over to the bored looking witch at the door. “I’ll hold your hand if you get scared, Rogers.”  


     “Yeah, yeah, Romanov. Just make sure you keep an eye on Clint and see that he doesn’t wander off and get lost. Again.”  


     “Hey!” Clint slapped at Steve’s bicep. “That was one time!”  


     “Barton, we were in a parking garage.”  


     “So help me Rogers—”  


     “Next!” The witch called. Steve and his cluster of friends stepped forward. She looked at them with a dull, uninterested look and said, “Please remember not to touch our actors. Their only purpose is to scare you. If you don’t touch them, they won’t touch you. Everyone got it?”  


     “Yes ma’am,” Steve said politely.  


     “Take the first door on the left.” She nodded her head inside and turned to the people behind Steve, bellowing out, “Next!” before Steve was even through the threshold.  


     “You ready, Rogers?” Peggy asked.  


     “Nope,” Steve said, rubbing his damp palms on his pants.  


     Through the first room was nothing but mirrors. While Steve was caught looking at himself and Peggy, he caught sight of the first attraction—a murderous clown who popped up out of an opening behind a curtain and ran up behind everyone while they were checking themselves out.  


     Wanda shrieked and flew into Clint in an attempt to get away from said clown. Clint and Wanda went down in a heap, Natasha neatly sidestepping so as not to be taken down too. Steve’s heart went into double time as he scooted around the clown without ever taking his eyes off of it.  


     Through the next room was a strobe light and actors dressed as asylum patients coming out of the walls. Their hands appeared in the strobe lights, inches from Sam’s face. Sam leapt back with a loud, “Jesus Christ!” and the hands receded and reached for Pietro, who moved faster than lightning to get away from them.  


     The room led them out into a pitch black hallway. Steve reached out and grabbed on to Natasha’s shoulder. The only indication that she was even remotely affected by the scene was that her shoulder was tensed like a rock underneath Steve’s clammy fingers. Behind him, Steve felt Wanda grabbing on to his shoulders.  


     As his friends made a train down the blackened hallway, a piercing light shot out of nowhere, accompanied by the loudest train whistle Steve had ever heard. The scream that erupted from his mouth was something he wasn’t proud of. However, it was drowned out by everyone else’s shrieks of pure terror.  


     The only person who didn’t scream was Natasha, but she jumped over a foot in the air and threw herself into Steve. Clint grabbed onto Wanda and Pietro and hugged them both close to his chest. Sam was plastered against the wall with Peggy ducked underneath his arm and Steve was left with a pounding heart and sweat dripping into his eyes.  


     Together, the seven of them sprinted to the end of the hallway and into the next room. There was some nervous laughter from Clint and Wanda, but Steve was petrified with fear. The next room was also dark, except for one light bulb hanging from a skinny thread of wire in the center of the ceiling.  


     It took Steve a second to notice the actor in the far corner of the room. There was a child dressed in a hospital gown, staring at the wall and not moving. Steve was already headed towards the door, keeping his eyes on her at all times. She didn’t move until he was three feet from the exit.  


     She turned and screamed as loud as she could, electing another scream from Steve himself. Sam and Pietro laughed behind him, until a second scream sounded, this time much closer, and a duplicate child, the twin of the other girl, appeared out of the shadows directly in front of Sam and Pietro.  


     The two grown men shrieked out curses no child should hear and flew backwards, Sam tripping over Pietro’s foot and taking the two of them down to the ground. Peggy and Wanda ducked out of the way, dragging a still-screaming Clint with them. Steve grabbed hold of Natasha’s shoulder and started taking off for the door.  


     As Pietro and Sam scrambled to get to their feet, the others ushered them into the next room. This room, in contrast, had nothing but bright lights and white walls. There were medical patients chained up on the floor, sitting in handcuffs and straightjackets, just staring at them with fake-blood smeared all over them.  


     The lights were already hurting Steve’s eyes, so he started walking forward, doing his best to ignore the taunts they yelled out. He heard the others following his lead, Wanda’s small hand seeking out his upper bicep as they moved. One of the patients darted across the floor until he was a foot away and grinned up at Steve with blackened teeth.  


     Steve yelped and jumped out of the way, moving as far as he could without getting close to the patients on the other side of the room. He booked it for the door, only stopping to wait for the others once he got his hands on the doorknob. Wanda, Pietro, and Clint weren’t far behind him.  


     In the light of the room, Steve could see just how clearly the haunted house was affecting the others. Clint had broken out into a deep sweat and Wanda’s face had paled dramatically. Pietro couldn’t stop turning his head to look around him to make sure no one was sneaking up around him.  


     Peggy was wringing her hands and fixing her hair compulsively, like she was trying to look put together when she wasn’t. Sam never stepped more than three feet away from someone and kept his back to the wall at all times. Only Natasha seemed unruffled, though Steve noted that her eyes were much more calculating than they had been before.  


     By the time they had gotten through all of the rooms upstairs—one of which involved a chainsaw and a _very large man wielding it_ —Steve had never felt so on edge in his entire life. By the time the last door to the last room closed behind them, even Natasha was twitching at every noise.  


     The exit room was housed by a werewolf with a flashlight, who smiled at them and said, “Hey guys! How’d you enjoy the house?”  


     “Never again,” Steve said, glaring at Sam, who nodded quickly.  


     “I’m never going to look at a doctor the same way again.” Sam said darkly, cringing at the memory. There were sympathetic murmurs from the group as they recalled the mad doctor who had chased them down a darkened hallway with a meat cleaver and a crazed look in his eyes.  


     “Naw, don’t worry about him! That’s just Tony,” The werewolf said, still smiling around his fake fangs. “Anyway, now that you guys are done, you can just head down these stairs and walk to the left to head back to the parking lot. There should be some guys out there with flashlights to lead you there if you get lost.”  


     “Oh thank god, get me out of here,” Pietro took off down the stairs, followed by his twin and Clint, who was still sweating.  


     “It wasn’t so bad,” Natasha said, shrugging.  


     Peggy scoffed and fixed her hair for the fourteenth time in eight minutes. “That’s because you don’t get frightened by anything, Ice Queen.”  


     “Speaking of which, you guys can get your pictures up around the front of the house!” The werewolf said again.  


     “Pictures?” Steve asked, hesitating at the top of the stairs, Natasha, Peggy, and Sam paused halfway down to wait for him.  


     “Remember the bright light and the train? That was a camera, dude! Just tell the guy working the desk, Rhodey, that Peter sent you, okay?”  


     “Uh, sure thing,” Steve said awkwardly, turning to head back down the stairs. His legs were still shaking a little bit by the time they made it to the bottom. The cool air felt incredible on his hot skin and he could feel sweat drying to his forehead. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever done.”  


     “But it was fun!”  


     “You and I have very different definitions of fun, Wanda.”  


     “What did the werewolf say to you?” Natasha asked curiously, cocking her head to the side.  


     “The kid, uh Peter, I think? Uh, anyway, he said we could get our pictures—” A loud scream erupted right in Steve’s ear, deep and masculine. Steve, so startled that he resorted to pure instincts, turned and swung, his fist connecting with something hard and soft at the same time.  


     Behind him, everyone else shrieked at the sudden and loud appearance of the last and final attraction of the haunted house. Steve’s heart was pounding as he finally realized what had happened and he instantly held his hands up and sputtered, “Oh my god dude, I’m so sorry, you scared the bejesus out of me—”  


     “Christ, Steve! You broke his nose!” Peggy announced loudly as the actor, who was still crouched over, held both hands over his face and groaned in pain.  


     Steve paled. “I’m so, so, so sorry man! I swear to god I didn’t mean it—holy shit you need medical attention—Christ, Sam, call him an ambulance!”  


     “Relax blondie,” The actor drawled out in a low, deep voice that sent a shiver running down Steve’s spine. “You didn’t break my nose.”  


     Natasha started laughing. “Holy shit, _James?_ ”  


     “Wait, your friend James?” Steve thought his heart was going to stop beating right then and there.  


     “Christ, Tash, I told you only my ma calls me that,” James, apparently, drawled again, finally standing to his full height. Steve was surprised that a man his size had been able to sneak up on him. James was only an inch or two smaller than Steve himself, but no less muscled or bulky. He leaned backwards, pinching the bridge of his nose.  


     “And I told you that Bucky is a stupid ass name,” Natasha said, primly.  


     “Yeah, but Bucky’s the only name I got, Princess,” James—no, _Bucky_ —said, dropping his hands and scrunching up his nose, grimacing when blood continued to pour out of it. Steve’s heart _did_ stop then, because Bucky might just have been the prettiest thing Steve had ever seen in his entire life.  


     Bucky was all dark hair and big blue eyes. His eyes, which stood out even more since they had watered up after Steve hit him, were the color of the sky on a summer morning. Bucky had dark scruff along his chin and jawline, which was deliciously sharp and pronounced. Steve was in trouble.  


     Bucky rubbed underneath his nose to wipe away some of the blood and then tenderly touched his nose a few times, prodding it and poking it. After a quick deliberation, he raised his eyebrows at Steve and said, “You didn’t break my nose, blondie, but you sure as hell did try to.”  


     “I’m so sorry,” Steve repeated stupidly. “You caught me off guard.”  


     Bucky smirked, and it was a small quirk of the lips that sent all of Steve’s blood rushing south. “I can see that, dollface.”  


     Steve flushed and rubbed his hands across the back of his neck. “Are you sure you don’t need medical attention? We can take you to the hospital.”  


     Natasha snorted. “Steve, relax. James is a professional trainer. He’s been hit in the face more than a few times.”  


     “Yeah, _Steve_ ,” Bucky hummed. “I promise I’m fine. Scouts honor.”  


     Steve got the impression he was being teased, so he swallowed and took a step back, awkwardly saying, “Right, um, James—Bucky. Sorry, again, by the way.”  


     “It’s alright, doll,” Bucky grinned this time, his teeth startling white against the blood and dark hair around his lips. “You’ve got a mean right hook. You military?”  


     “Uh, no,” Steve flushed again. “Didn’t make it, actually.”  


     Bucky’s brows skyrocketed, blood still dripping out of his left nostril. “How the hell did you not make it?”  


     Steve shuffled on his feet, suddenly embarrassed. “I used to be about five feet tall and ninety pounds on a good day.”  


     Bucky whistled. “My, my, did you grow up.”  


     Sam gagged. “Okay, _gross_.”  


     Steve flushed again. “I also had a ton of medical problems, so.”  


     “Well, you sure would make it now,” Bucky gave Steve a quick once over and Steve watched as Natasha’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline. Bucky’s pretty blue eyes narrowed in on Steve’s arms and he whistled again. “Jesus Christ, your biceps are huge. How often do you work out, dude?”  


     “For God’s sake, James,” Natasha started laughing again. “You’re going to break him!”  


     “I work out a couple of hours every day,” Steve said truthfully, rubbing at his arm self-consciously.  


     “Lord have mercy,” Bucky muttered under his breath.  


     “Look, I’m really sorry I hit you in the face,” Steve sputtered again, face heating up under Bucky’s gaze. “I really didn’t mean to.”  


     “No harm, no foul, sweetheart.” Bucky grinned again. He gestured to his face and wiped underneath his nose again. “It’s already stopped bleeding, see?”  


     “Still, I’m really sorry.”  


     “If it’s bothering you so much, you could just take me to dinner and we’ll call it even?” Bucky grinned again and behind Steve, Sam gagged for a second time, Clint whistled loudly, and Natasha started laughing again. Peggy and Wanda were both grinning and Pietro just looked supremely confused.  


     Steve sputtered. “I—uh—I mean—what?”  


     “If it’s bothering you so much that you clocked me,” Bucky repeated slowly. “You can just take me out to dinner. Fair trade?”  


     “Like on a date?” Steve asked dumbly.  


     Natasha smacked him on the back of the head and Bucky tossed his head back and laughed out a, “Yes, on a date.”  


     “I, um, sure, yes. I would like that very much,” Steve fumbled over the words but finally spat them out.  


     Bucky grinned back at him and held out his fingers. “Gimme your phone.” Steve pulled his phone out of his pocket and passed it over to Bucky, who typed a message out to himself and then tossed the phone back to Steve. “Alright gorgeous, now you’ve got my number and I’ve got yours. Don’t be a stranger, you hear?”  


     “I hear,” Steve smiled back at him, a pleased feeling settling in his stomach.  


     Bucky grinned back at him for a second before gesturing to the side of the house. “Well, let me walk you guys to the parking lot. I want to see the picture they took of you all in the hallway.” 

 

     The first text Steve sent to Bucky was, “How do you feel about Italian?”  


     Bucky responded, “I’m going to devour a plate of chicken parmesan.”  


     So their date was set. Bucky picked Steve up at six, they were seated by six thirty, and the two of them didn’t leave until they were kicked out at one in the morning. Bucky drove Steve back to his apartment and kissed him on the front steps. The two of them were cautious of Bucky’s bruised nose though. (Steve apologized again).  


     Their second date was a walk through the park that lasted four hours and involved a lot of shy glances and tentative handholding. Their third date was at Bucky’s favorite diner where Bucky officially asked Steve to be his boyfriend over a chocolate milkshake and a bucket of French fries. (Steve said yes).  


     Their fourth date was at Steve’s apartment where he made his ma’s old recipe for homemade spaghetti. (Bucky ate three bowls and then passed out on Steve’s couch). Their fifth date was the next morning, where Steve made them both coffee and they did a crossword puzzle together.  


     A year passed before anyone noticed and Bucky recruited Steve to work in the haunted house with him. Steve made sure not to tell the others and he swore Bucky to secrecy. When the day finally came when Natasha and the gang came creeping into Steve and Bucky’s hallway, they prepared.  


     Steve waited until they had completely walked past him before he stepped out of the shadows behind Sam and revved his chainsaw as loud as he could. Sam screamed louder than anyone there and the rest of them sprinted forward, only to run straight in a pick-axe wielding Bucky.  


     When Steve and Bucky’s shift finally ended they were laughing before they even made it outside, where Natasha had rounded up the others to wait for them. She only glared at their laughing faces, but Sam clapped Steve on the shoulder and said, “ _You got us good, man._ ”  


     Steve only grinned back and replied, “ _I know._ ”  


     “And to think, all this from the guy who used to be scared of everything.” Clint said, applying what was most likely his sixth layer of deodorant.  


     “Well, what can I say man?” Steve glanced over to where Bucky was already watching him with a soft, happy grin. “It’s not so scary after all.”

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were having trouble picturing the gang in the haunted house: 
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> THIS ONE IS MY FAVORITE:
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> Okay I promise I'm done now
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> You can find me at : alliekitaguchi.tumblr.com , twitter.com/alliekitaguchi, and instagram.com/alliekitaguchi
> 
> **IF YOU HAVE ANY FIC REQUESTS OR IDEAS FOR FICS, PLEASE LET ME KNOW**


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